Spare The Love
by Fencing Supplies
Summary: [In celebration of Red Dead II] A stormy night and a quiet saloon. Bonnie is keen to get over her fiance, and a certain stranger is sending all the right signals.


_I got so happy over the news of Red Dead Redemption II that I fell back into the fandom. This story might be continued as all Bonnie, no Jack. It might just stay an illicit encounter. Either way, it was fun to write and hopefully a pleasure to read. Enjoy._

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Torrential rain blasted Armadillo, the saloon's veranda gushing with streams of run off. Muddy water splashed the ground, years of dust washing off the roof like a dirty dog under a hose. Lightning flashes, catching the desert in a millisecond piece of art. Thunder rolled across the landscape, drowning out the piano being pounded for all its worth inside the rowdy hotel that doubled as a pleasure house. Many types of pounding went on here, Bonnie noted with a wry smile.

She was sitting on a bench outside, taking in the delicious atmosphere of the storm. She should be annoyed at the weather, stranding her here for the night, but the rancher inside her was too happy to see it crashing down.

That might change if it didn't subside by morning. She was not in the mood for flooding and waterlogged pastures after so long in harsh drought.

Bonnie pulled her green vest tighter, well aware that her white shirt underneath was leaving nothing to the imagination after being soaked through. Displaying her proud, stiff nipples and wet-as-a-drowned-rat hair to the drunks inside was not a priority right now. She was waiting outside in hope her clothes would dry and the chill leave her skin, but so far it was not going in her favour. The wind was gale-force and hit her with droplets, worsening the situation. Another shiver went through her, and she felt her tits twig again.

Bloody hell.

Deciding she couldn't get any wetter, or worse off, Bonnie stood and marched off to check on her horses and wagon. The shopkeeper was allowing her to house them inside the stockyard barn out the back of the saloon for tonight, a favour for a valuable customer she was all too happy to accept. Graciously of course. Walking out into the storm was like riding through a dust storm, just a very wet and noisy one.

She splashed along without a thought, boots and stockings already soaked to the bone, Bonnie adjusted her grip on her new gun. It was only a few weeks old, and a prized possession of hers. As a rancher it was a necessary farming tool, as a woman it was her protection. Ever since her kidnapping and near hanging her love for firearms had seen a sudden spike.

Rather than unlatching and relatching the gate, Bonnie simply jumped over the fence into the stock yard. Two dogs who belonged to the blacksmith barked at her from under the cover of their master's forge, watching her go by and slip into the barn with sharp eyes.

The warmth of the barn hit her cold body like a radiator. Hay piled the walls and loft, insulating her two wagon horses and other steeds in, their body heat and warm breaths filling the place. Darry and Larry both perked their ears in interest as the door groaned closed behind her.

"Hey boys," Bonnie greeted, going over to rub their foreheads in turn. They were older geldings, sensible and lazy, too well worked to be anxious over the unfamiliar barn and the commotion of the storm. Happy that the boys weren't stressing out, Bonnie caste her eye over the two others roped to the opposite wall, hay bales stacked as temporary walls to divide them up. There was sleeping a brown and besides that a young filly tossing her head and jumping with ever loud noise.

Hm. None of her concern.

Her wagon sat in the dead centre of the barn, the tack piled up inside the tray. She ran her hand along sections of the harnesses, checking to make sure she hadn't missed a spot when oiling the leather earlier in the night. Happy that her property was in order, and with a last scratch to Darry and Larry's sleepy heads, Bonnie slipped back out into the storm. Jogging past the dogs who only snuffled ruffs at her this time, she climbed the fence and walked tight against the saloon's wall, hoping it offered some sort of protection before slipping back onto the porch and sploshing once more onto the bench.

Her eyes went to the horses left tethered on the main street, all with their heads down and weight shifted as they hunkered down against the driving rain. A child ran screeching from veranda to veranda before ducking inside their home, a bundle of clothes and supplied held over their head. The dark figure of a man slipped inside the sheriff's office. Besides that, the town was quiet, candles glowing in the windows of the homes above the shops.

Bonnie sat like that for a bit, uncomfortable in her wet clothes but not unpleasant enough to force her inside just yet. She checked her gun and bullets, polishing the barrel with a rag out of her pants pocket and hummed a tune.

The rain poured and poured. A woman came outside to relight the saloon's lanterns that had extinguished, a dry fox fur coat snug around her while she struck the matches. The black-eyed woman shared a glance at Bonnie, recognition flashing there, before leaving her in peace.

It was about eight thirty when Bonnie finally went inside, a scratch of tiredness starting in her eyes as the hour drew on. A lot of the patrons had withdrawn to their rooms for the night, leaving only one table of quiet gamblers and two drinking at the long bar. Drawing up to the matron who was rinsing glasses in a kitchen bucket behind the counter, Bonnie allowed herself to swim in the good memories that lived inside these walls. It seemed strange, but she was here often as a child, chasing along after her father and older brothers. Trips were always a big family event for the MacFarlanes, the great chandelier and wide staircase as close as those in these lands got to glamour.

"A drink?" The matron asked her, wiping her soapy hands on her apron.

"A room, if you have." Bonnie drawled, not at all surprised when the matron frowned.

"Booked out."

"Ah. A drink than," the news didn't shock Bonnie, she had been preparing herself for staying awake for the night, it was wiser anyway, to keep an eye on the barn and anyone coming through the town. She could sleep tomorrow, in the safety of the ranch.

"A towel too," the matron remarked with disapproval while going off to fetch one. Bonnie decided that was not an invitation to make herself comfy on her choice of lush chair and instead remained standing at the counter until the matron returned. Using the towel as a barrier between herself and the stool cushion, Bonnie settled in with her gun resting against the side of the bar and a whiskey in hand.

The matron continued to work close by, and Bonnie decided it was time to get to know the woman. The last matron had been a close friend of the family – every store owner was really. This one had been managing the saloon for over a year now yet the MacFarlanes were yet to invite her up to the homestead for dinner and an overnight stay. Being the biggest land owners in the territory had its responsibilities. There were no older brothers anymore, Father didn't like to leave the farm, and she never had time as an unaccompanied woman to partake in the questionable pleasure of the saloon whenever riding into Armadillo.

"So how's the business going since taking it over from Marge?" The matron shot her a look that glared 'who are you and how do you know me'. Bonnie raised her glass an inch in response to that look.

"Bonnie MacFarlane," she smiled in way of explanation. The frown quickly flattened out of the matrons forehead when she realised who exactly was sitting at her bar.

"Oh Miss MacFarlane," she squeaked, the complete opposite reaction that Bonnie had ever expected to come from the woman old enough to be her mother. "Yes, um, business has been steady. Taking up the reins after Marge left for Thieves Landing was a task in itself, but folks in Armadillo are good, and the travellers are friendly enough."

Friendly enough.

The woman's shoulders sagged and the cloth she had been wiping the glasses with splashed back into the bucket. She looked on Bonnie with a forlorn expression.

"Miss MacFarlane, if you are still interested in a place to sleep tonight, I am able to arrange something with a little effort."

"Oh no, please don't, no poor man should be turfed out just because of me."

"No one will be misplaced, there is this room you see within the establishments, rented out by someone who is never there. We have the key for cleaning and such, and I'm sure you could catch a few hours of sleep without disturbing anyone. I've been managing here for over two years now, but in all that time I've never once seen someone come and go from that room. The rent turns up on time every month, so I assume someone uses it, but for the life of me they certainly don't use it much."

"That is a mighty kind offer, I'll keep it in mind, but for now I'm going to keep an eye on the storm."

"Alright Miss MacFarlane, would you like another whiskey?"

"Of course, what do I look like?" The two women threw their heads back and laughed, one because she wanted to please a wealthy customer, the other because she was incredibly uncomfortable with the situation.

After losing fifty dollars and winning twenty at the card table, a dinner of boiled eggs and mince, a glass of rum along with a try at the piano, Bonnie finally had enough of the soggy clothes and took the matron up on her offer at around ten o'clock. The woman led her up the stairs and around the second floor to a separate section she never knew existed. She unlocked the room and potted around, lighting a lantern that hung in the corner and offering to bring more blankets up if necessary. Bonnie declined the offer and took the key, telling the matron to wake her up at the crack of dawn and thanking her for the hospitality.

Once the woman was gone Bonnie locked the door behind her and kicked her boots off, followed by vest, shirt, belt, pants and stockings. She went and sat down at the writing desk pushed up against a wall between the two beds that sat in the room. Now in only her short cotton shift, she was drying much quicker. The thin cotton material breathed as she towelled her hair out and tended to her gun, making sure no water was caught in the mechanisms. Once happy she wouldn't be sleeping in soggy clothes, Bonnie did a quick safety check of the room. The doorway the matron had brought her through was locked tight, but there was a second door in the room. Carefully she opened it, peeking her head out into the storm outside as her suspicions were confirmed. It led onto the second-floor veranda. She locked that one tight as well.

Bonnie went about hanging her clothes wherever she could in the room, over the back of the chair, over the large locked chest and the ends of the two beds. There was a large wardrobe in the room, but it too was locked tight. Not that she was trying to pry it open or anything. There wasn't anything in the writing desk's draws either, just a few discarded pens and scraps of paper.

Once comfortable with the dark room, she tucked herself into bed, curling up like a cat in a barn loft. With her face buried in the pillow, Bonnie noticed a scent. It was comforting, musky and familiar like the silos when filled with grain. Smoky like a camp fire. It was a nice smell. Her cold skin was full of goose bumps as the soft quilt enveloped her, and quickly sleep descended.

At some point, early or late into the night she did not know, Bonnie was woken up by what sounded like someone trying to get in through the door. In sleepy instinct, her hand shot out and grabbed the gun that rested close. Slowly she inched herself up, fear honing her mind like a butcher's knife as she trained her gun on the veranda door rattling in its frame, waiting for some bandit or drunk to foolishly force his way inside. After a tense minute, her adrenaline levelled enough to notice that the sound was simply the wind lashing the door about.

 _Stupid,_ Bonnie scolded herself. No one would be out on the veranda in this god forsaken storm.

Sitting up in bed, waiting for her heart to stop racing, Bonnie noticed how badly the storm had worsened. Every now and again it was like a tornado went by, shaking the saloon to bits so hard she could hear the windows rattling in the hall outside. With ever angry sound, she grew anxious.

Mind made up, she threw the sheets back and went about redressing. The stockings from the bed end, pants from the chair, shirt from a hook and her vest from where it was spread across the chest. With a quick check to make sure the lantern was watertight, Bonnie took it down from the wall and pocketed the room's key before tugging her boots on and marching out into the hall.

The saloon was quiet, no moaning or laughing, just one gentleman silently smoking a cigarette outside his door. Going down the stairs, Bonnie nodded in acknowledgment to the girl on the night shift, sitting behind the counter and minding the empty establishment. Taking the same route as before, Bonnie took a deep breath before submerging herself in the rain once more. She climbed the fence, went past the now silent forge, and hauled the barn door open just enough to allow her body through. Inside was still warm and darker than ever. Her lantern the only source of light.

Once again, her boys looked up at her entrance, tails swishing in a show of anxiousness. Going over she drew the lantern close to inspect the wagon horses for signs of injury. It would not do for one to startle and kick a beam, becoming too sore to pull the wagon home. Larry had somehow managed to wrap his rope around his left foreleg and it took a bit of manoeuvring to unravel it, but other than that the boys were doing well. The roof above them wasn't leaking and the ground around them was still dry. Happy that the boys were doing well, she went to check the wagon.

Two separate leaks in the roof had appeared since last time, both falling into the wagon, resulting in the harnesses sitting in a puddle.

"damn it," Bonnie cursed, angrily putting the lantern down and positing herself behind the wagon as she dug her heels in and pushed the contraption from under the leaks. It would drain in time, but she needed to find a new place for the harnesses equipment.

Bonnie looked around, coming up with nothing. Ah, whatever. The tack should be fine, she'll oil it and dry it out back at the ranch. While surveying the barn, Bonnie noticed a new addition in the far corner. An agitated grey horse stomped about, it's coat still gleaming with the rain.

Hm, someone must of just ridden in. She couldn't help but consider that foolish. It would have made much more sense to bunker down wherever they had been and wait the storm out rather than make the journey into Armadillo.

Bonnie drew closer to the grey, lantern coming up by her face to part the beast from the shadows. A saddle, bridle and blanket were hitched over a railing, those as well gleaming with rain, but she could see the marks of a recent oiling on the leather. So they weren't in that much of a rush, or maybe they just liked to take care of their possessions.

"Hey there," Bonnie crooned as the beast snorted and twitched. "You're a big one, aren't ya?" She carefully picked her way around the horse, admiring it. With a swish of the tale she also noticed that he still retained his balls. "How did you get away with that?" She chuckled while examining the formation of the stallion. "Wouldn't mind having you around the ranch for a week or two," casting her mind back to the three mares Father had been talking about foaling just the day before.

With that in mind, Bonnie went about inspecting him more closely, pleased with what she found. He was a sound horse, strong and patient with her. She expected him to become hostile when trying to get a look at his teeth, but still the grey allowed with little fuss. He seemed happy to have someone with him during the storm.

"Handsome boy," Bonnie smiled in way of goodbye, picking the lantern back up and going to the barn doors. With one last look over the horses and leaking roof, Bonnie ducked into the storm, latching the barn up and splashing through deep puddles.

Jumping through the waterfall and landing on the veranda, Bonnie stood stuck in place and groaned. Her boots were filled with water, and once again she was cold and wet. Unfortunate. Flicking her arms to try and rid them of excess water as she stalked up to the doorway, she pushed on the large wooden doors that had been closed into place over the usual saloon swingers.

"Mighty windy out there, ma'am?" The girl on duty called as Bonnie started to climb the staircase. Bonnie simply grunted and nodded, hand going into her pocket to fish out the room key.

As she neared, she noticed light coming in from underneath the door. There was a second lantern in the room, but had she left it on? Bonnie paused in the hall outside, wracking her brain for any memory of lighting the second lantern.

Deciding that she must have, she slotted the key in and clicked the lock open, stepping inside with wryness. The second lantern was indeed lit, and it had been moved to sit on the writing desk where a man currently sat with a hunting rifle in hand, the barrel open as he filled it with bullets. They both froze.

With quick, practiced precision, Bonnie lifted her gun at the man. He remained still, caught in a casual slouch with his shirt half undone and feet bare.

"What are you doing?" Amazingly it was him that spoke first, voicing a bizarre question.

"Is my room," she frowned at him, ideas of this being an ambush flashing through her mind. He looked rough like her once-kidnappers, full of scars and clothing reduced to rags. It was a stroke of luck she caught him fiddling with bullets. Honestly, what sort of criminal when hiding in wait unloaded his gun? And in the middle of the room, wouldn't behind the door be so much more practical? Standing in the open doorway, Bonnie knew she just needed half a second and she could be behind the protection of the wall. If it came down to shooting, there were another dozen cowboys more than happy to blow his brains to bits for disturbing their sleep.

"This your room?" The dark-haired man said with mild outrage. "I'm afraid you're mistaken ma'am, this is my room. Has been for years. So unfortunately, if you don't mind, going away and closing the door behind you." Bonnie remained motionless, and the strange man rose his eyebrows with a dry smile. "And tell the girl to draw me a bath, while you're at it, please and thank you." He then carelessly dismissed her, returning to repackaging his bullets. She should have taken the opportunity to escape, but by now she was less than convinced her first instinct had been right.

"It costs extra for a bath," one of her brothers used to complain about it all the time, _two dollars._ The man stiffened and growled at her.

"So you work here now, do ya? Good, then you can make up for rudely inviting yourself into my quarters by hauling a warm bath up here." He then proceeded to pull a bound stack of money from his jacket and count out some notes, he then made a show of waving them about the air before slapping the two dollars down on the desk corner closest to Bonnie.

A ruse to get her closer, a show to make her lower the gun. A dumb criminal but a smart man, she had caught him like a mouse between her paws and now he feinted and played dead. But he knows the correct amount. What does that tell her?

Quietly Bonnie stepped back into the hall, gun trained on him the entire time, and slowly she pulled the door closed. As soon as the click of the lock sounded, she darted to the side, wary of any bullets being blasted through the wood. Speeding off in her soggy boots, she raced around to the stairs and catapulted down them. The girl on duty was visually alarmed, jumping off the lap of the gentleman she had been serving.

"Is something wrong Miss MacFarlane?" The girl asked in a soft voice that undoubtedly worked when trying to calm down raging drunks and hot-headed outlaws.

"There is a strange man in my room," Bonnie hissed under her breath. The girl's hands came out as if to steady her, holding Bonnie's arms with care. "He was waiting in ambush of me, and ordered me to fetch him a bath!" She wasn't sure which outraged her more.

"You're in the room with veranda access, right?" The girl asked, Bonnie nodded. "That might be the renter…" At this the girl's eyes lit up, "dark haired young man, scruffy beard, tan jacket with a red bandana?" After staring at her blankly for a bit, Bonnie grunted in affirmative. Now that she thought about it, there had been a red bandana somewhere near his person. Might have been using it to dry his gun off, actually.

"He arrived not too long ago, grouchy, didn't talk, went straight upstairs. I'll draw him a bath and see if he wouldn't mind a bottle of something. Or a piece of something." Both Bonnie and the gentleman she had been entertaining shot her looks.

"Girl?" The gentleman slurred, obviously confused.

"Hush you've only got pennies left anyway." At that he purpled a bit in anger, but both the girls could tell he was too drunk and tried to bother arguing. Or standing up for that matter.

"The matron says that if he ever comes by, he is a priority customer. We can't afford to lose the steady rent. Plus," she added coyly, "there is a betting pool on what he looks like, and I've got fifty cents on him being a lawyer from Blackwater. A handsome established gentleman on the lookout for a mistress to spoil." With that she went skipping off.

"Wouldn't mind picking up where she left off would ya sweetie?" The man joked from where he slouched against the table. Bonnie resisted the urge to shoot him.

"Roll over and die Lewis," to which he gave one big boom of a laugh before falling off the chair. Bonnie watch Lewis roll around groaning by her feet before he curled up and fell asleep. She helped herself to a cup of ale from behind the bar and watched as the girl and another dragged a copper tub from a supply closet up on the second floor. They carried it all the way down the hall and into the man's room. Then started the laborious task of running up and down the stairs with buckets of hot water. Once that was done the girl came back to her with a sour look, hand coming out to collect the ten cents for the ale.

"He wasn't no rich man, just a farmer from away east. Not looking for a mistress either, didn't take kindly to any of our advances." She looked quiet put out by the whole experience as she pocketed the money.

"East could still mean Blackwater," Bonnie soothed,

"What sort of farmer comes from Blackwater?" She had a point.

Now that the girls had confirmed that he was not an ambusher but in fact the owner of the room, Bonnie had to admit her interest was piped. A farmer from the east? Perhaps she knew of his land, was he on the Hennigan's Stead plateau or down by the river in the white-grass? Or maybe he was out in West Elizabeth?

Most importantly of all, if he had just arrived, was that his stallion in the barn?

Bonnie sat and nursed her ale, one eye on the storm, another on the clock as she waited for dawn to break. It was ten minutes past one when the man made his way down to the saloon, dressed in clean clothes, shaved clean and his wet hair all combed thoroughly back.

"You again," he grumbled when spotting her, off in the corner sulking at a table.

"Can't go anywhere until the storm dies," Bonnie shrugged. He snorted.

"Storms don't stop no one, just an excuse for lazy people to lie down." That sounded like someone who would ride through a storm. She was now ninety percent sure he owned the grey.

"Stops you when you've got a wagon," at this he leaned his head side to side as if he was physically the scale balancing up the arguments.

"Fair enough."

He slid into a stool at the bar and ordered himself a glass of rum along with a meal of cold cut ham. Bonnie decided that her interest in the grey horse outweighed her displeasure of the man, and so went over to sit by him.

"Wadya want?" He greeted ungracefully.

"That your grey stallion in the barn?" The girl poured his drink; the rum glowing red as a nearby candle illuminated it, the light bouncing around inside the crystal. Anyone else would have gotten a ceramic cup, but obviously the girl was still trying to impress her customer by using their best ware. The man took a long drink before answering her.

"Yeah, what about him?" Bonnie pouted, annoyed that he had yet to look over at her. Was she crazy, or had she held this man at gun point not half an hour ago? A little respect please.

"Fine horse," she complimented. He only scowled deeper.

"Not for sale."

The serving girl popped her head out from the kitchens and yelled something about corn beef. The man waved her away with the tiniest of nods. Bonnie forged on.

"Where did ya get him from?"

"Mexico."

She hadn't expected that.

"From a breeder?" Maybe she could secure another. In reaction to her question, the man chuckled before bringing the whiskey up to his lips.

"Nah, he was a young mustang. I was involved in a round up, used some of my wages to buy him. Was cheap, must have been only, argh," he paused and looked down at his hands, "was probably five months old or so." Usually buyers waited until the horse breakers had worked with the mustangs. To have some rudimentary training at least.

"Well he turned out good," she thought back on the grey. To think the patient stallion grew up wild.

"I don't need you to tell me that." His tone wasn't harsh, in fact it was almost warm, and she could tell the pride he had in the stallion was overruling any other annoyance he felt in that moment. Off the cuff she spoke.

"You a breaker? Might hire you for a bit." At this his eyebrow quirked and Bonnie felt a bit foolish being so forward with the stranger.

"Nah, I wouldn't put the effort I did with him into any old nag. I don't get along with the normal horse, ya know, so I'm very particular with my own."

"You don't… yet along?" For the first time that night the man met her gaze, a glare shined there within his brown eyes.

"No, I don't care to elaborate. No, I'm not going to help you with whatever demon horse you've found yourself with. No, I'm not selling him. What's the real reason you're interested? Want him to cover your mare or something?"

"Actually," she started, cut off when he rolled his eyes. Before she could continue the girl came back out with a plate of corn beef strips, plonking the meal down between them. The man reached out and dragged it towards himself, making it quite clear he had little interest in sharing with Bonnie. She resisted the urge to scoff. It was a free meal for crying out loud, what the hell was he worried about? As nearly half the plate proceeded to disappear in what felt like seconds, Bonnie decided to put a peg in that judgment. "Actually, sir," that got his attention. Now with some salted, boiled beef in his stomach the man looked at her with more mischief than annoyance. "I've got two or three mares back on the ranch that I wouldn't mind breeding, especially with the drought breaking, wouldn't say no to a few foals off him." At that she inclined her head roughly in the direction of the barn where the subject of conversation lay.

"Hm, thirteen dollars." Bonnie blinked rapidly.

"For all three?" At that he smugly plopped another rash of meat into his mouth.

"Each." _Buggar that._

"Six."

"Nine."

"Deal," on instinct she raised her hand to shake on it, both looked at it for a second in slight bewilderment before he ended it by returning the gesture. His hand was warm and rough, clean, nothing like the oily or gritty handshakes she had grown used to. _Obviously, he's just bathed you idiot!_

"Pleasure doing business, ma'am," he smiled, aglow with satisfaction of a good deal. Bonnie realised she had probably jumped at that nine too quickly. Her mind had been floating away with dreams of having the bloodline within her heard for generations to come. The man sobered to match her sudden sour attitude. "Where's your property?"

"Hennigan's Steed." The man shot her a look, one she couldn't decipher, but it definitely felt like one of confusion.

"Why you driving wagons up and down that mountain side when you got a train that runs from here to that MacFarlane place." Bonnie fiddled with her now empty mug. God he's gonna think her an even bigger idiot once he finds out that was her ranch.

"A bulk of our stuff we get in by rail," she admitted, "but when we need something quick the train isn't the best. To send word down to the shop keeper and get it loaded on the train usually means it only arrives late the next day. If I take the wagon I can collect it and be home within six hours." The man nodded, his eyes going to the windows and the raging storm outside.

"Bet you wished you took the train today," Bonnie laughed at his remark.

"Nah, the trains won't be running in this weather anyway."

"Always rains when you don't want it to." She scoffed in friendly agreement, finding herself smiling, both sitting there smiling at each other like idiots. "Look on the bright side, it can't get any worse." At that she truly laughed.

"Don't jinx us, it most certainly can get worse. I'm not too hot on the whole flooding concept."

Again he did that thing where he tilted his head side to side, shrugging with a lazy grin.

Most of his hair was still wet through, but little ringlets had started to appear as the soft baby hairs dried. It was incredibly sweet looking when one curled perfectly against his forehead, before he ran a hand across and it was swept back. The next minutes were spent with him finishing the meal at a more normal pace, and her failing to realise she was staring.

He wore soft grey pants and a white button up shirt with light blue pinstripes. The normal sort of suspenders went over his shoulders, the tight straps pinning the loose material of the pinstriped shirt to his chest. Bonnie's mind drifted back to when she had him at gun point, she had barely registered it at the time, but now she remembered in detail the exposed skin of his chest. The muscles there, the scars and sunburn which crisscrossed the skin.

Over the neat looking clothes, he wore the sort of coat farmers and labours owned, thick and woolly enough to keep the cold off the bones, the elbows and cuffs patched with tougher swats of dark denim. At the bottom of it all were brown boots, freshly scrubbed clean, probably in the bath water once he had finished with it.

This man was alright. Different to her last two fiancés, both faired haired and well mannered. In fact he reminded her of a particular crush she had a few years back, one of her numerous one-sided romances, as fleeting as it was innocent. Marston had only been skin-deep mean. She wasn't sure if the grouchy attitude on this one ran only on the surface yet. This one was younger, closer to her age. She remembers fibbing about how old she was back then, a small lie that made her heart race the rest of the wagon ride.

Bonnie remembers the reasons she repeated in her own mind like a child trying to escape punishment. Maybe if she made herself out to be a friendly spinster of closer age, he would see her in a different light. Fat chance. A twenty-two-year-old pretending to be twenty-six wasn't going to interest the happily married, what, _forty-year-old?_

"What do you run on your property?" the gentleman sitting beside her asked, breaking her from the staring match she had been having with her empty cup. Bonnie blinked rapidly as she replayed the questioned through her mind.

"Cows, beef," she thought back to their ledger, where their biggest sources of income were recorded. Honestly most of their profit came from the fees the shopkeepers and train station provided. "We do a bit of work in the stud business. Horse and cattle both."

"Ahh," the man smirked, "I should have haggled for more. Had I known…" Bonnie resisted the urge to shove him off his stupid stool.

"No," she told him off sternly, "you're extremely lucky with what you got. I've got top quality stallions coming out of my ears, don't need one more."

"Why did you go after my guy then?" He leaned in closer with an openly amused expression. Bonnie sighed hard through her nose, deciding on being frank with the man.

"He is one of the best I've seen in a while, and new blood never hurts the herd. Amos, our farm hand, has been the horse man for so long." God it must have been over twenty years now. He was around even in her youngest memories. "He's leaving to start his own ranch soon, and we're going to give him a good cut of our top horses as a going away gift."

"Crazy. That could be thousands of dollars' worth of livestock." Bonnie shrugged. If she and Father bothered to add up petty numbers like that, it would likely come into two thousand or so. Enough money to buy a small farm in its own right.

"He's like family. And besides, it's not like he is disappearing. Helping him start up a successful ranch will benefit us, we'll be able to share cattle and grain, have each other's back ya know." Bonnie cocked her head towards her company, "what about you?" She meant it as in, _what do you farm_ , but the response she got was weird.

"Ergh, nothing as noble as ranching I'll admit. Jobs here and there, the mustering in Mexico for example, I was working on the train tracks the company was putting through Punta Orgullo when there, got work with an arms dealer after, here and there, you know."

That was a far cry from a 'farmer out east'. A lull of silence passed between them where Bonnie simply hummed in acknowledgment. In reflection, she should have been a bit politer, it ended up looking like she was severely judging him, but she was just so shocked to catch him in the lie.

Why would he lie?

Bonnie peeked at him from the corner of her eye.

More importantly, why was that turning her on? She wasn't a pitiful enough woman to be attracted to dishonesty, right? Now that she thought about it her last two near-husbands had been sleazy cats. But it was the dishonesty that made her lay them out on their money hungry arses. No. It had to be the mystery, the strangeness, the slight warmth of the alcohol and the exhaustion of the restless night mixed with fear of a friendly visitor.

Thunder cracked close by, rattling the liquor bottles in the display. The man covered up a yawn.

"You should get some sleep," Bonnie mothered, a little disgusted with herself once the words hit her ears. Running his hand through his hair, the man groaned, the sound making a womanly part of her flinch.

"Yeah," he agreed, his eye sliding shut and staying like that for some time as they both sat in silence. "Feel a bit bad though, kicking you out, the ladies explained the mix up to me." The man rotated his head around to face her as he talked, but never opened his eyes more than a sliver. Bonnie showed her appreciation for the apology with a beaming smile. Cheeks all rosy for an entirely different reason.

"Oh, don't, I should be keeping an eye on this storm anyway. I'll be off just before dawn if the weather allows it." Here the man finally cracked an eye open to regard her.

"Yeah it really looks like its dying down out there," almost perfectly another bolt struck far too close by. "Look, there is two beds, if you're okay sleeping in a room with a strange man, I'm fine letting you take the extra one." Bonnie weighed it up, instincts pulling her in both directions.

"As long as I get to keep my gun," she grinned, lifting her rifle. At that he laughed, resulting in them both sitting there chuckling before quiet fell again. For a few moments, it was awkward as both waited for the other to say something.

"Well, I'm ready to hit the bloody hay," the man exclaimed, sliding from his stool and heading towards the staircase without a backwards glance. Bonnie quickly jerked out of her own seat as she rushed to follow.

"Ya, I didn't want to seem unpolite and say something, but you were nearly falling off the stool for a bit there." Bonnie kept her voice forcefully light as her heart started to pound. She was being stupid, thinking herself in circles, it was just the spare bed. But no matter how she chastised herself, walking along behind the stranger on course for his room made her shiver.

It was a combination of things, the view of his broad back, the darker the hallway got, the comforting childhood memories that mixed with it all. The hair half dried like he was lounging about his own home on a Saturday night, a wife in the next room and a small child curled up against his chest.

Her key was still in the lock. The man twisted it and held the door open for her, a tired nod given as she thanked him and stepped through. Bonnie immediately went for the smaller bed in the corner, determined not to linger or gawk or make a big awkward deal out of anything. That was her first mistake, because as he shut the door and she sat down on the bed, he walked directly towards her.

Her heart jumped a hundred beats with ever step he took closer and closer, until he finally stopped right beside where she was frozen in the middle of unlacing her boots. For a wild moment she imagined a soft hand reaching out for her shoulder, or a breath ghosting across her ear. A hand did come out, but only to hold her key under her nose.

"Ya want to keep this, or what?"

Bonnie really wished she had just shot him when she had the chance.

"Ta," she said, so desperate to bury any of the feelings that were currently screaming under her skin that her thanks sounded more like a disgruntle mumble. That seemed to work well for him though, because he responded with a genuine grunt. Bonnie dropped the key into one of her shoes and promptly threw herself back, blankets brought right up to her nose as she tried to make a protective shell for herself. That was her second mistake, with nothing else to distract her she was stuck waiting in silence as the man eased off his boots, coat and suspenders. Then he reached over to the writing desk that sat in-between them, his face handsome in the orange shadows from the flame, slowly turning the lantern down until it was only a smoulder and hanging it back on the wall hook.

At first it puzzled her, and she frowned at the soft outline of him falling into bed with a pleased sigh. But as he shuffled a bit, kicked some blankets free, and rolled over, she realised he was being incredibly thoughtful.

Either he knew what it was like to be in an unfamiliar room with a stranger, or he was just very perceptive. Or maybe he was afraid of the dark? Actually that might explain a fair bit.

Bonnie closed her eyes and released the sigh of relief her body gave as it relaxed and gave over to the tiredness.

All was dark. Rain hit the roof and the winds blew, making the soothing sounds of _shush-whush-shush_.

Thunder grumbled, far away and distant now, out over the desert somewhere else. Bonnie quietly shifted her feet around, searching for the cooler sheets. Once the perfect temperature was achieved she drifted off to the synced sounds of her own breathing and that of the man across the room.

Cold fingers grasped her arm, shaking it softy as they whispered. _Miss MacFarlane it's dawn._

"Fuck," Bonnie startled, jerking away from whatever it was leaning over her and slamming wide awake with fear. A serving girl came into focus, a new one, a little lantern in one hand and the other reaching out as if to ease a feral animal. Bonnie blinked several times, wondering if she got any sleep at all. She should have at least gotten two or three hours before the wakeup call she had forgotten about arrived.

"Argh," she acknowledged gracefully. "Why?" Bonnie raised her arm to shield her eyes from the dim candle flame. "Why did ya freak me out like that? Just knock next time." The girl looked incredibly guilty, her eyes sliding shyly to the other bed in the room.

"Madam didn't want the other guest disturbed." Ah, the memories were coming back now. Bonnie too looked over and took in what was a haphazard pile of quilts and sheets with dark hair poking out the top.

"Understandable," Bonnie admitted, throwing her own sheets off and holding back curses at the loss of warmth. The desire to roll back in and let sweet sleep embrace her once more was strong, but as the girl left Bonnie got a glance of the window in the hall, still being lashed by heavy rain.

She had best check on the barn. Kicking on her boots and tucking her laces down the sides rather than bothering with the bows, Bonnie stood, picked up her gun, and stumbled out of the room. With bleary eyes, she looked around the pitch black. Was the girl sure this was dawn? Bonnie groaned as she meekly felt her way down the stairs, across the saloon and into the wet, cold, dismal outside world.

Rain, weaker and softer, yet rain all around. So many puddles it was just one big shallow lake spread all down the main street and around the buildings. The barn. Flooded? That thought put enough panic in her to stick her chin up and step out into it. This time her muscles were too sleep-weak so she just used the gate like a normal person.

The puddles were deepest out in the stock yard, were the ground was potholed from the pigs and torn up by the wagons. Without warning her left foot sunk down to mid shin making her squeal with dismay. It felt so grimy to have her boots once more filled with water after they had just been so deliciously warm and dry only minutes ago.

Bursting into the barn was not warm like it once was. The leaking roof had made the whole place chilly from the dampness. Her boys looked deep in sleep, heads down and hips slanted as they stood three legged. Bonnie quietly went over, eyes adjusting to the darkness to see that they were standing in a thin layer of water.

That can't be good for their feet. She thought about solutions while checking on the wagon, and realised her only solution was to put some fresh straw down. She would pay the barn owner for the straw bales later. Bonnie felt around hoping to find a section of floor higher than the water level. Eventually she came to the conclusion that the only dry section was the corner in which the grey stallion stood, watching her keenly. She fetched the pitchfork that rested against the wall and raked out the two bits of manure before setting it aside and heaving a straw bale off the top of the make shift walls. As she plonked it down in the corner and started spreading it out, the grey leaned down to nibble curiously.

"Only straw sweetheart," Bonnie told him softly as she ripped off a section of straw big enough to hide a dog in. Repeating the process with a second bale, Bonnie got the pitchfork back to rake the fresh straw evenly about. Satisfied, she untethered her now awake wagon horses and led them one by one to hitch beside the grey. Careful to give the grey enough room not to feel crowded in. The boys bucket of water was empty so she refilled it at the pump just outside the barn, cursing as she pumped away in the rain like a lunatic. Sloshing back in, Bonnie placed it before the three and went about checking all of them for injuries or swelling. The grey was a bit more annoyed this time, likely quite hungry, and her boys were still sleepy as ever.

With a quick cursory glance on the other two horses in the barn, Bonnie returned to the saloon, marching inside looking and feeling like a cat caught under a hose.

"All good out there?" The morning girl asked as she wiped down tables. Bonnie flat out ignored her, stomping up the stairs before remembering most of the saloon was still asleep.

"You're tracking mud through!" The serving girl hissed, magically now holding a mop and wiping up the boot prints Bonnie had made through the saloon. Bonnie felt bad, her house was always getting mud and dirt walked through it. It was one of her biggest pet peeves. With a glum apology to the girl who was now mopping up the staircase close to Bonnie, she eased her boots off and carried them the rest of the way, her wet socks making dull slapping sounds against the wooden floor.

Bonnie twisted the door knob only to find it locked. On the verge of punching someone, she remembered what had been digging into the bottom of her foot the entire time. She fished about the wrong boot before switching and latching onto the key. She quietly tip-toed her way inside and softly clicking the door shut behind her, the lock sliding into place.

It was quiet and dark. Silence besides the muffled storm and his soft breathing. She stood motionless in the room for a while, wondering what she was going to do now.

Oh, what she would give to be at home, tucked up before her radiator and absorbing the heat it pushed out. This saloon was far too cheap to have installed any type of radiator yet, but she knew the Blackwater hotel was famous for having the very latest.

The lantern was out, the oil all used up from smouldering throughout the night. Not wanting to get her sheets wet, Bonnie carefully picked the chair up and placed it by her bed, sitting her arse down on it and thinking this through.

Her cotton underclothes would dry within fifteen minutes or so, and she could crawl back into bed and be warm once more. There was no use going anywhere, she might even be here for another day if the state of the roads was anything to go by. It would almost be suicide to drive the wagon back up the mountainside with the tracks so sloshy. One wrong move and it could slip and drag all three of them over the cliff edge. However, there was the canyon way, but that was a known base for outlaws and rustlers. She would be shot and raped before reaching the other side. Unless the rain flushed them out? No, it was out of the question.

Bonnie shifted uncomfortably once more in her clothes, all thick fabric in order to keep her warm, but now a curse as they weighed with water.

What did it matter? It made logical sense. And what really was the problem? The saloon girls strutted around in less, and if he did wake up? Was that really the worst outcome?

The worst outcome would be if he woke up and got all flustered or belittled her, Bonnie realised. If he made a big deal about not being interested, or heaven forbid, repulsed. She squared her shoulders. So be it then! She was not some shy maiden, she was soon to become co-owner of the biggest ranch south of the Revenge Mountain Range. Sure she was a failure as a woman, twenty six and two marriages slipped away through her fingers. A crone in many people's minds, really. She should have had a horde of kids, but as the gossip said, seed did not take root in her. It was the main reason her second fiancé left, only a month ago, repulsed at the idea of a barren woman. He could deal with the age due to the fortune he stood to inherit as her husband. Let she not mention he was far older than her, but of course that didn't matter, no, he was an 'established gentleman' and she was a 'poor spinster'. No matter his filthy gambling habits and her honed ability to squeeze money from any old thing. When he had first shown up, everyone loved him, all dressed nice in those suits and talking of his transport business back in St. Louise. That was why she had first showed an interest in him, wondering if she could secure a special discount of grain or set up connections for quicker delivery of wheat. Then he flirted back and worked so hard to sweep her off her feet that she simply leaned back and offered little resistance. She knew he wasn't a good fit but she was so lonely and all the gossip had gotten to her, she wanted her virginity gone, she wanted to know the touch of a man before the wrinkles stared to show. She played and played along, fooling herself into this perfect relationship. When he proposed, it felt like the best day of her life. Then he started to get annoyed with her, wanted her to cook his meals, clean his room, wear nicer clothes. He would consult his bible and preach to her like she was his flock: a barren woman was suspicious, impure, she needed to repent and prove her piety, she needed to redeem herself for whatever wicked things she had done.

As soon as that god praising started coming out, Bonnie knew she had to cut her losses. The illusion of a perfect life was no enough to put up with this bull shit. He got turned on his arse and she happily saw him off.

She was no blushing woman. Her once fiancé would it immoral and sinful for her to strip her clothes back before the sleeping stranger. With that thought, her mind was made up. Fuck him, she cursed in her head. Fuck all of them. She hung her vest and shirt over the bed end, her pants over the chair, her stockings over the edge of the desk and her socks there too.

Bonnie leaned back in the chair, eyes closed and listening to the steady breathing of the man, waiting for a shift in the rhythm. She was almost eager for him to wake up, further proof to the fact she really did hate herself. The minutes ticked past and he never stirred, the adrenaline left her veins, and sleep claimed her as she slouched back in the chair, feet propped up on the mattress. Just fantastic. Brilliant. Cold and with a sore back, that's how she wanted to wake up hours from now. Unfortunately, she was too far gone in dreams for those thoughts to register.

In her dreams, she was in a cave, waiting out a raging storm. The man was there, walking in all wet and muddy. She took him to the back of the cave, where her house lay, and ran them both a warm bath. She washed his chest and back, her dream lingering on his shoulders. The bath had turned into more of a pool, big and warm, steam rising and smooth peddles under her feet. He had her pinned against one side, lips gently brushing her ear, and she almost unravelled at that alone. The dream went on as dreams do, to the stock yard on the ranch where she was counting the cows and finding five missing, to helping a mare give birth to a beautiful silver foal. When she awoke, it was with the sensation of lying beside the family fire, small again, four of her brothers tumbling up and over the couch behind her, their voices and shrieks high with youth and laughter, her mother cooking in the kitchen, her father away in the fields.

She awoke with the visions of that dream slipping away like fog, disappearing from memory as she looked around and registered the real world. Subtle smells of boiling tea and corn filled the air. A quilt had been spread over her, and she blinked at it with confusion.

"I brought up some breakfast," Bonnie squinted in the direction of the voice, her eyes landing on the man as he sat on his bed chewing away at a buttered bun. "Thought the smells would stir you." Placed on the writing desk was a bowl of grits and a cup of steaming tea, along with a small plate filled with cubes of cheese and apple slices. The first noise she made was a sort of wheezing groan, but eventually she mastered herself and sat up. The blanket fell into her lap, causing her to twitch with the instinct to cover up with shame. Slowly, she draw the blanket over her shoulders and wrapped it around to close across her chest, eyes determinedly on her breakfast and nowhere else.

Desperately she wanted to stretch and yawn, but all the confidence of dawn at left her now. Alternating between the grits and the hot tea, Bonnie managed to make quick work of them both, feeling more content and warm then she'd been for days.

With a great sigh, she flopped back into the chair and let herself relax, munching on a slice of cheese or apple every now and again.

"Storm should lift by lunchtime," the man spoke after the long moment of silence. Bonnie frowned at the cheese in her hand.

"What's the time now?"

"Eight,"

"Oh," he seemed to be wrestling with something as the seconds ticked by.

"You go running about in the storm last night?" the tease was audible, but so was the genuine curiosity.

"Checked the barn at dawn,"

"Alls good?"

"Bit leaky and the floor was wet. I shifted them to a dry patch. Alls good." He nodded seriously from his bed and she nodded back, why she did that she wasn't sure. It mustn't have struck him as too odd, because there was no reaction on his face. Bonnie was half way through a different bit of cheese when he spoke again.

"Well, we've got some hours to kill, what do you want to do?" It sounded incredibly suggestive when replaying inside her mind. In desperation to escape her eyes landed on the gun he had placed on the desk and blurted out whatever came to mind.

"What type of gun is that?" Great just great, Bonnie cursed herself. However it turned out not to be such a stupid question, because he happily explained and told her what he liked about it and didn't. Soon they were chatting about guns, of all things, what they liked best, their favourite types, funny gun stories, stories in general.

Eventually she ended up on his much larger bed. Don't ask because she's not really sure how it happened. Something to do with bringing the plate of cheese over to him so they could share. Snuggled into a blanket cacoon she sat back against the combined pillows of both their beds, contently listening to him describe how he trained the grey to not freak at the sound of gunshots. She learned his name was Mustang, plain yet fitting as it was. She had to giggle at the ridiculousness of it, causing him to turn his head and look at her in mock bewilderment. Blue eyes met brown and she quickly turned away, distracting herself by lunging into a story about her first time roping a mustang. He was laying down towards the foot of the bed, legs over the side and hands tucked behind his head. They were like two nine year old's staying up late telling each other secrets.

Sometimes she would wonder. When the perfect moment arose again and again yet he never leaned over to stroke her arm or kiss her upon the lips. He literally had her in his bed. Maybe he was just being a gentleman, like with the lantern. Towards the end of her story about the stubborn arsehole that was her childhood pony, she decided to take the morning into her own hands.

"What about you, did you have a pony as a child?" She sat up and leaned in, feigning the movement as interest in hearing the answer. She purposefully put herself just right, close enough for him to either show signs of discomfort, to which she would know where he stood, or signs of interest, to which she would also know where he stood and possibly act. The first thing he did was laugh.

"I didn't have much of anything as a kid, hardly had a mother and father." Okay that was not really setting the right mood. At her deep frown he shrugged and continued with a carefree voice. "My parents were part of a gang until I was about ten, my sister and I would be abandoned for days at a time. I was flat out recognising my own father. I'm over it now, but yeah, it happened." Bonnie resisted the urge to openly gape. He smirked at her expression. "Who did you expect me to be? There is a reason all my legitimate jobs were in Mexico. The law follows my name like a bloodhound in these parts, watching for the slightest thing they can haul me into jail for." He sighed and leaned back into the mattress, looking older then he had any right to be. "Honestly I'm seriously considering disappearing off into Mexico." Bonnie felt alarmed at his admission, for a reason she couldn't name.

"Why are you here then?" She asked quietly.

"On my way to check some land I inherited, a small farm on the Great Plains. I should probably sell it but I don't have the heart, my parents are buried there. How do you sell the graves of your parents? Its just not possible." He was scowling at the ceiling before a memory danced behind his eyes and a smile split his face. "I leave it be mostly, abandoned for nature to reclaim. Once I found some buffalos sleeping in the barn."

That was actually rather funny. They smiled at each other as she imagined it and he remembered. Time went by slowly.

"I just realised, I don't know your name." Bonnie held her breath, tensing at his words.

"Bonnie," she said simply, a deceiving smile on her face. He stuck out his hand and she accepted.

"Jack," once again as they shook hands, she was struck with how much she liked the feel of his skin. Instead of dropping hands after two brisk shakes, they continued. She wasn't counted but they must have got to ten.

"You married Bonnie?" This was it, her cue.

"Why you wanna know?" She asked coyishly, the perfect tilt in her voice to signal she was perfectly open to some flirting. She could tell the moment he realised this, because his eyes gleamed with a new flame of interest.

"Just wondering if I should be keeping an eye out for some protective husband. I didn't factor being shot into my plans for today." She actually had to laugh at that, good and from the bottom of her lungs.

"Two fiancés to date, but never had the misfortune of a husband, no."

"Poison them?"

"No!"

"Ah, shot them, its so obvious now."

"Very funny."

"Thankyou."

She leaned in and kissed him, a peck upon the lips, drawing back an inch before he gave chase. A part of her expected soft closed kisses, but as they merged she realised that would have only disappointed her. They're lips were hungry and her breathing quickly became pants, mingling with his own breath. _Jack,_ she reminded herself distantly. Technically she was not kissing a stranger, she was kissing a 'Jack'. Bonnie wriggled out of her cacoon and crossed the little barrier of distance they had kept. Her hands went into his hair, her chest against his, and their knees knocked as she drew even closer.

"Exactly how far do you want this to go?" He pulled back and asked, a hand tracing circles on her back.

"All the way, thank you." He laughed in her face, not bitterly, just in surprise. Bonnie was sure of her statement. She wanted this. She wanted to fuck him. Most of her life it had just been her and her hand, and when surrendering to her second fiancé she assumed pleasure like that was reserved for a woman to find in her own time. Yet here she was, buzzing with familiar warmth, two minutes of kissing giving her more than all the sex with her fiancé combined.

"Okay," he agreed with the most innocent smile she had ever seen. Bonnie lunged, pulling him down to meet her as she rose, lips searching for lips once more, hot breath for hot breath and tongue for tongue. He was brilliant. Not in the way of experience, but how he followed her lead, responded to her tugging, listened to every groan and repeated what he had just done to make her squirm just so. And they were only kissing, fully clothed. Bonnie decided it was time to right that.

Her hands tugged his shirt out from his pants, and they slipped under, running up the skin of his abdomen and coming to rest either side of his rib cage. Fully engrossed with slowly exploring the skin under her hands, she failed to realise the struggle Jack was facing as he tried to find a similar way under her cotton shift. Only when he swore did she open her eyes and take notice.

"Fuck these clothes," Bonnie smirked at his pained expression. Extracting her hands from under his shirt, she shuffled her butt back a bit before laying down and rolling over, the laces down her back exposed.

"Take your time, you need to unlace about five before I can wiggle out of it."

"Fuck," he cursed, undoubtedly looking at the strings in bewilderment. She owned simpler garments, but this one was best for the bumpy wagon ride, able to lace her breasts tight and stop any bouncing. Bonnie hid her face in her folded arms, smothering her giggles. His fingers tentatively started the process, and she used the opportunity to swing her foot back and poke him teasingly, trying to guess what part of him she was touching by running her foot along. Soon the discovery was made that she was just beside his shoulder blade.

The laces were slipping away quicker now, she was about to tell him that he was past the five she needed when breath fanned across the skin that had been exposed. Shivers bloomed from the spot and she froze. Lips touched down, slowly moving down her spine. As much as she wanted him to continue, it was going to be such a pain to relace.

Bonnie squirmed and sat up, careful not to wack her partner in the process. Shyness grasped her as it always did as she rolled off the bed and stood up. Dark eyes watched her as the shift slipped away slowly, inch by inch. Then she was just standing there stark naked in the soft glow of an overcast day, in a room with no windows but a new lantern blazing on the wall. Bonnie stood and wondered what to do next, pondering if she should tell him to undress or crawl back to him. She took one step closer, but silently he signalled for her to stop.

"I'm really enjoying this moment," he whispered, eyes lingering up and down her body. "I'm just going to say it, would you mind slowly spinning around?" In a flash she felt like a piece of meat, but then she looked into his face and saw only reverence there. As she slowly begun to turn, in her mind she was humouring him, but once he left her field of vision, and it was just her slowly turning, for all the world the only person in the room, she felt like a work of art.

As the circle completed, he had moved to the edge of the bed, close enough to reach out a hand and touch her hip. Which he did. His gaze focused on parts of her she didn't expect, her neck, her stomach, her thighs, the hand tracing patterns before slipping away down her thigh and leaving her skin cold.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Undress."

And so he tugged his socks off and peeled his shirt away. When he stood up to let his pants drop, the height difference registered and another shiver went through her. She felt the heat of his eyes as he gazed on her breasts, he must have noticed how they stiffened.

He came to his underpants, dark eyes looked to her, she nodded, he dropped them, they both stood there looking at one another.

When she stepped forward to claim his lips, it felt a world away from what they had before. Warmth all around, her breasts pressed into his chest, his manhood laying against her stomach. Bonnie rocked her hips, making the velvet texture of it slide over her skin, causing him to gasp into their kiss and hands grip her like a man dangling over a cliffs edge. She loved it.

Half way through a second devious plan, his hands went under her thighs and lifted her off the ground. The action was so surprising she squeaked and nearly when tumbling over backwards. Luckily she managed to latch her arms around his neck and cling just long enough for him to place her down in his bed. Bonnie shifted into the soft quilt she lay upon, hands going to his chest as he crawled over her. She felt like shoving him off. This wasn't right, it felt different once again. This was how it went with her fiancé, on her back looking up at the ceiling waiting for it to be over, him fucking in and out of her like a street dog. His lips went to her neck, and Bonnie was just about to tell him this was a bad idea when his lips trailed to her collarbone. Then lower and lower and -

Oh… oh!

Okay

Oh!

Just as his lips were about to reach her nipple, she almost choked on her anticipation.

"Oh shit," she gasped, fingers digging into his skin. Immediately he pulled away.

"No?" He questioned, sounding very fragile and sorry, or maybe just very close to the edge like her. Bonnie wanted to scream, _don't ruin the momentum stupid man!_

"Yes, really fucking yes," that seemed to be the right answer, because he resumed his work. This time his lips starting on the other side of her neck, running over her collarbone and down to her other nipple far slower than before.

"God damn tease," she whimpered, fingers going in his hair and nudging him on. Finally the hot mouth claimed her, and she at first pressed herself back into the bed, caving away from the foreign sensation, before his lip started to move about and soon she was arching up into him. With every groan she felt him twitch. Due to him being lower their _erhm_ , _parts,_ were now perfectly positioned.

With a boldness never felt before, Bonnie shifted her hips stealthily, rubbing the tip of him against her folds. The instant contact was made he went still like a deer on the trail, making her mission of experimental rubbing a lot easier. With a certain rosy part of her no longer being teased, her attention was now free to fully concentrate on what was going on between her thighs. As she became greedier, rubbing him deeper and deeper until he was right up against her opening, his head fell in between her breasts. His heavy pants fanned across her skin and down her stomach, and if that didn't spur her on she didn't know what would.

Bonnie peeked her eyes opened and admired the view, muscles as tense and tight as they came, some twitching in his effort to keep control. And soft dark hair spread across her breasts, face pressed into her skin so tight she could feel his eyes squeezed shut as if in pain. A groan rumbled out from him, and the echoes of it went straight down to her core.

Bonnie wrapped a leg around his backside, spread her legs wide, and rocked onto him. He entered her slick and gentle. Gasping with surprise at how different the sensation was, Bonnie halted her efforts once an inch or so was in. Just as she was about to return, greedy like never before, he drew away, face burying even deeper. She felt him against her thigh, shuddering and releasing, wetness against her hip and teeth biting down on her flesh. It all happened in one second, and the combined sensation of it all nearly had her over the elusive edge.

A long moment of satisfaction followed, where he slowly got his breathing under control.

"You're the devil," he groaned, shifting up and collapsing on his side beside her, head tucked into the hollow of her neck. As he slacked in no doubt extreme satisfaction, Bonnie was running about her mind, at war with herself.

Should she touch herself? It was only a few rubs away, she could feel it, humming there ready to spring. But what would he think? Sinful, disgusting, wanton? The shame of society started to drag her away from the edge, yet she struggled, kicking and screaming.

To hell with it, had all her risks not paid off so far? What was one more with this stranger? If he did not like it, what did it matter to her? She could just kick him out and send him on his way.

Wait, this was his room.

She would just waltz herself out, order a stiff drink and be on her way. No skin off her nose. As her hand snaked down attentively, it bumped into where his arm was still wrapped over her waist, and an idea came to mind. Bonnie ran her hand along his arm and picked up his hand, nudging it down to her core. She felt him shift and nuzzle into her shoulder questionably, but he was too sluggishly to do much else. Obediently he moved his hand how she want, only freezing a bit when his fingers touched inside her folds and he realised where he was. His body all the way along her side was hard, but she felt it relax in sections, curiosity over what her fingers were doing winning over.

The presence of the stranger's hand doubled the rate in which her release grew, putting her back into a state of moaning and arching before too long. He picked up her movements, giving the sort of little strokes one did to a cat they suspected was about to turn and attack them. Bonnie shifted her hips time and time again trying to align him, but still he kept missing the perfect spots she needed. In frustration, she forced his hand lower, grinding, and found something far more pleasing than his fingers. His palm. The surface was large and calloused, stroking everywhere at once where she needed it.

The point of no return came, and Bonnie surrendered herself to grinding like an animal, pushing him harder and harder into her, rising and tensing, gasping big breathes with closed eyes, chasing after the rush, leaning in and just… melting… shivering… into pieces.

Her whole body tensed like a bow string, and her womanhood shuddered, squeezing and kneading as she rode the wave along. His breathe stirred her hair, and Bonnie realised he had propped himself up on his elbow and had been watching her, the sensation of his gaze fuelling the wave along until it crashed on the beach and washed further inshore than it had ever taken her before.

Now it was her turn to go limp in the quiet, trying to bring her breathing back down to a noise that didn't fill the whole room.

"What was that?" He whispered. How did she go about explaining, in terms this man would understand?

"My… release."

"I did not know woman experienced releases like that. You looked like you had more fun than I did."

Bonnie sniggered at that statement.

"Most men don't, in fact almost all men do not. Welcome to a very exclusive club, sir. Use this information wisely."

"How did that happen, the rubbing…"

"This," and here she took his hand up again. It was still resting above her folds and maiden hair, having gone nowhere while its owner suffered from a mild case of shock. Bonnie eased one finger down and touched it to her bundle of nerves, the little throbbing piece of her that came out at times like this. As excited and aroused as she was right now, it was noticeable, out from under its hood, the thrum of blood pumping fast through it. His finger circled it gently and her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her skull. It was sensitive after release, almost painful to the touch, but she let him explore with patience.

"The little bubble you mean?" He asked, wandering back to where she first nudged him and circling it once more, his thumb coming down to rub it as well. Bonnie squeaked in the back of her throat, almost jumping out the bed.

"It's very sensitive after," Bonnie warned him, and he drew his hand away entirely, leaving her feeling oddly cold. Her eyes opened to find him staring at her, frowning in thought.

"Huh, I'm sensitive after too…" the thought bounced around his brain, and she almost laughed at the look on his face as the realisation came to him. _Woman are just like man._ He then leaned down and smirked, a quick kiss to her cheek before rolling away. "Well thank you for this learning experience, Bonnie." She had forgotten his name during the activities.

"My pleasure," she settled on saying. A snort of amusement sounded out from beside her.

"Quite literally. I would say 'I hope' but I'm afraid I witnessed it quite close up. A vision that will not leave the back of my eyelids for some time, I think you should know." Bonnie bit her lip to avoid grinning like a lunatic.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"You should be."

And at that they both drifted off into the warmest of naps. When she woke up he was still rolled away from her, and she used the quiet hours of the rainy midday to admire the view. Broad and lean with muscles, scars lacing the skin, an odd freckle. Bonnie reached out and traced those scars, mouth-watering when his muscles jumped under her touch.

"Give me a massage while your back there," a sleepy voice grumbled. Bonnie fought between amusement and outrage at the comment.

"Only if you return the favour," she expected a fight, but he responded instantaneously.

"Done," he agreed. Still half in sleep he rolled fully onto his stomach and Bonnie sat up to survey the sight. Actually, this wasn't a bad idea, she got to put her little paws all over this fine piece of man, what was not to love? Bonnie started in her highly novice but still effective method, the shoulders, the upper back, the spine, the lower back, and then all the way up again, over and over, until he was so relaxed it was like a second pillow under her hands. Bonnie leaned over and whispered in what she assumed with a seductive voice.

"My turn," at first he gave a groan of resistant, probably deeper in sleep than when she started, but when he turn to the side and looked upon her naked body he nodded in acceptance. Wonder where the change of heart came from, Bonnie smirked to herself. She lay down on her front like he had, arms folded up to rest her head on. As he got the hang of the massage, Bonnie startled at how big his hands were, at times feeling like they were spanning her entire back. A few minutes in those same hands started to wonder, down to her hips and ghosting over her buttocks, up her sides and across the flesh of her breasts. Sometimes it was ticklish, and she was forced to fight back girlish giggles. He seemed to know it too, the bastard.

Lips travelled down her spine, just like before, but this time with nothing to stop them. He kissed each bone, then kissed his way back up again, before nuzzling into her neck, licking and biting in a way that made her shriek and him pull away laughing.

"I'm ticklish there," she warned, arm going out to lightly shove him. His grin only got wider and she could just hear the ' _I know'._ Only it couldn't be an _'I know'_ because they hadn't even known each other for a full day yet. Perhaps it was more along the lines of _'I hoped you were'._

He was lying on his back beside her in the bed, and she leaned over him to kiss the cheeky bastard. His arms came up to capture her there, deepening the kiss before she could squirm out of his hold. As she hovered over him, using her tongue to show him how annoyed she was at the stunt, Bonnie realised she was into it. It was like when they had been standing together. She had control.

Now to take advantage of the situation, Bonnie thought. Mind hunting around for ideas before one jumped out at her. She hid her blushing face in his neck as the image came to her. Once it was thought, there was no taking it back. An action she had seen once upon a time, as a girl of thirteen walking around a corner in the barn, glancing one of her brothers and a woman in the throes of passion in the straw.

As a little sister she had tried to purge the sight from her mind as best she could, but it had been her sexual awakening, and the way that woman rode atop her brother was unforgettable. Taking a deep breath, Bonnie swung her leg over the man and settled her hips over his, praying to god she was doing this right.

Brown eyes quickly darkened to black, and hand that had once wrapped around her now trailed down to rest at her hips, dancing there in confusion. Considering he was only just starting to twitch awake now, Bonnie decided a lot more kissing and stroking was in order. And since she was in control, it was up to her. She leaned back down and their lips met again, this time hungry as the promise of sex filled the air between them.

Hands were running everywhere, his over hips and back, while she enjoyed burrowing into his messy hair. At one point she let a hand wonder down his chest, and a cruel idea struck her. She let it wonder further down, more and more until she wondered into enemy territory and shyly wrapped her hand around it. He did not freeze this time, but again under her kisses he became an open mouth struggling to breath normal.

Bonnie stroked him slowly, the feel of him growing and hardening in her hand made her opening scream in anticipation. The position, the memories and many fantasies of the position, the knowledge that soon she would be astride him, was enough for her to almost be rushing him. Luckily he was ready within four strokes, and she treated him to a few more while she gathered the courage to follow through with her plan.

Taking advantage of the fact that she held him, Bonnie eased her hips into the position and aligned him perfectly. Then she slowly begun to lower.

They got further than an inch this time. Bonnie took her sweet time sinking down, experiencing both that slick new sensation of before along with the added change of the strange position. Her hips pressed into his, and she wriggled the last of him inside before taking a minute to just sit there. They both were breathing heavy, she could hear it. Her eyes had been closed for the entire time, but now she looked down at him.

Looked _down_ at _him_. His hands were clutching at the sheets, his muscles deliriously tense once more, and those eyes looked like he wanted to eat her whole.

Then she started to move, not up and down, but backwards and forwards, a pause, then side to side before doing grinding circles. Everything got a reaction out of him. Eventually she found the best angle, a mixture of up and down with backwards and forwards. Her eyes shut and the world blurred.

It was hot, the length inside her, patient and going at her own pace. Hers to play with and not the other way around. Thrills went up her spine at the thought. The spell she had placed on the man must have worn out because she felt his hands wondering across her hips and stomach. One even went up to grasp at a breast as they bounced to her movements.

At first she was just enjoying herself, then she was working. Working towards the edge, just like before. Bonnie wasn't confident release could be found while a man's length was inside her, but she was too focused on chasing sensations in that moment to doubt.

Then his fingers wondered over her stomach, and a thumb brushed down to find her bubble of nerves, and all of a sudden she was so, so, so close.

Dimly she was aware her moans were the loudest they had ever been, but her focus was blinkered, all awareness of the world around her reduced to a thumb and a manhood, both driving up inside her in just the perfect way. Bonnie leaned down as the desperation of a near release arrive, the angle giving her just what she needed as not only his thumb up the length of him brushed her bubble as she rocked him in and out of her. She leaned and drove back just enough to place him perfectly, and then she unravelled, rocking him as deep as she could inside her. She convulsed like always, but this time there was something to squeeze down on, and the sensation shocked her. Once again he was extending her wave far beyond what her own fingers were capable of.

Mid-bliss he rolled them over, managing to draw himself halfway out before she growled in displeasure, hooked her legs over him, and pushed him back inside. He fought her a little bit, head coming down in the hallow of her neck in defeat. It was as his length shuddered and warmth pulsed inside her that she realised why he had tried to pull away. Tears sprung to her eyes as they both came down from the release.

"Shouldn't have done that," he slurred. She should tell him. He deserved to know.

"Doesn't matter, I'm barren." Silence.

"Why do you think I've no husband?" Silence.

Bonnie sat up and shoved him, his manhood finally sliding out.

"When a woman admits her biggest shame, you don't sit there in dumb silence." Silence, then he turned to look at her in horror.

"What the fuck?" He asked, confused like a hand-reared cow at slaughter.

Enough! This was over, she should be preparing to get back to the ranch not rolling about in bed with this… this… _stranger._ Bonnie jumped up and started grabbing at her clothes, hastily pulling them on. Her frustration doubled as she realised just how many laces had been undone down the back of her undergrown. Fuck him! She screamed inside her head, deciding she could lace it up later, once well away from this room and the man that owned it. She pulled her pants and shirt on, picked up her socks, stockings and boots, and marched for the door.

"Hey wait," he spoke, the casualness of his voice infuriating her more. She spun on him.

"Hey wait? For what? I have work to do. Thanks for letting me stay the night but I need to be getting home before dark." With forced politeness, she closed the door behind her and marched off before she could descend into screaming. How dare he judge her! What did it matter to him, he should have been happy, a risk-free roll in the hay but no, of course even he still thought her a disgusting, useless blight on the earth. It's not like she asked to be this way! Did no one think about it from her perspective? Never to hold her own child? To die alone, for the MacFarlane farm to end with her. The ranch destined to be sold off in pieces.

She burst through the saloon doors into the blinding sun. The lake had dried up into small puddles, and people were getting about town per usual. Bonnie marched down the well-worn tail to the stockyard, swinging the barn doors wide open and busying herself with preparing the harnesses. It was a long process and she wasn't surprised when half way through he arrived. Actually, she was surprised, she didn't expect him to follow along after her. He was dressed in new clothes and had saddle bags swung over one shoulder. Huh, must have had them locked in the chest. He ignored her, laying the saddle bags on the railing where his saddle was. Bonnie glared daggers into his back, and into his face as well when he turned around. He threw something at her, and she caught the green material on reflex.

"Left your vest," he smugly told her, then he raised the gun he held. "Left your gun too." Bonnie grabbed it, more shame-faced at leaving her rifle behind than she would be if he was swinging her undergarments around. "Left in a bit of a hurry." He stated, leaning back against the wall. Bonnie picked up the brush that sat in the wagon and chucked it at his head. It ended up hitting his shoulder.

"You're an arsehole!" She shouted, then jabbed her finger at him, "brush the horses down!" She could tell he was caught between ' _yes ma'am'_ and ' _fuck off'._ He bent down and picked the brush off the ground, grumbling as he started to brush his grey.

"Yeah well, I didn't know what you meant. It took me a few minutes to figure it out. I thought you were talking about some infection you had or something." Bonnie couldn't believe her ears.

"Does barrenness sound like an infection to you?"

"Well I don't know - there is so many."

 _Idiot._

They worked in silence. As the time passed so did her anger, and soon she couldn't hold back the laughter.

"You thought I was talking about an infection?" He shot her an annoyed look from over the top of his horses back.

"I would rather you didn't bring this up, ever again." Bonnie snorted and went over to fetch Larry, biting the inside of her cheek to keep the amusement from growing. She led Larry in front of the wagon and he stood patiently like he was trained to do. Bonnie whistled to get the man's attention.

"Chuck the brush," she ordered, catching it and briskly brushing Larry down where the harness would sit. He lowered his head obediently when she picked up the collar, allowing her to thread his head through the middle and draw it down to rest against his shoulders. She then went about him buckling the girth, laying the back and loin straps across his rump, and attaching him to the traces and those to the wagon. She left the bridle and reins for later. She then repeated the process with Darry, before double checking everything was sitting right and wasn't going to rub their skin to blisters.

"You picking up supplies before you leave?" The man asked from where he was inspecting the empty tray of her wagon. Bonnie rolled her eyes and exchanged a look with Darry, who she imagined shared her bewilderment.

"Yes." She answered curtly. "Across the road at the general store, a few bushels and steel pieces".

"Okay, I'll be waiting on the road beside the sheriff's," Bonnie's first reaction was outrage followed by surprise, then she realised he had given her the perfect opportunity to tease.

"Brave words for someone claiming to be the rabbit to a lawman's greyhound." The man pointed at her in warning, a smile fighting against the seriousness of his face.

"You watch yourself, don't know who could be listening in." They laughed at one another and suddenly it was back to normal. Well, back to how it was a few hours ago. Bonnie led her boys outside and waved goodbye as he cleaned rocks out from Mustang's hooves.

She led them down the road, passing the train station and turning down the main street, drawing them to a stop before the store front. The first thing she did was pay for a breakfast feed, placing the buckets filled with a mixture of different fodder before them both. It would be stupid to work them on an empty stomach. It took about an hour for her and the manager to find everything she needed and load it into the wagon. By then her boys were alert and ready to go, and she was eager to set off home. It was currently two in the afternoon, and factoring in a slower journey due to the wet roads, they should arrive at the ranch by six. Staying out after dark was a risk she was willing to take since she was being accompanied by the… whatever he was. Mexican at-large, she decided to label him, and she laughed at her joke while slipping the boy's bridles on and threading the reins through the harness back to the wagon. She climbed onto the seat, waved goodbye to the manager, and flicked the boys on, to which they took off faster than she expected. Looks like they were all eager to get home.

They trotted down the street, hooves and wheels splashing about, but no sign of bogging or sinking mud. That was good, if the torn-up ground of the main street wasn't sinking, then the rest of the road shouldn't either.

She rolled past the sheriffs at speed, noticing him waiting in the shadows of the building only once she had gone past. He mounted the grey and cantered along the road after her, quickly closing her early lead.

"They say the roads okay into Hennigans, just the bottom of the mountain road you need to be wary around, a deep bit of water has gathered there."

"Desert should have sucked up enough of it by now," Bonnie mused, eyes going to the sun high above.

"Aye, maybe." They travelled like that for a bit, him trotting along behind the wagon. When they started to come across water lying over the road she order him to ride through it first so she could see the depth. It was actually a very functional plan, when they got to the deep water mentioned, he got down and walked his own way through, feeling for any sinking mud that would bog the heavy wagon down. Bonnie gave the boys a bit of a run up, cantering them along and shouting to encourage them to run head long through the water. She could tell Larry was really bulking at the idea, but having watched the grey stallion go through just before stopped him from freezing up short.

The mountain road was steep, and she let the boys take it at the usual crawling walk. Once they reached the top Bonnie knew they would make it home just fine. When they rode past people she knew they would stop to ride along with her and talk, about the storm and how each other's land was doing. She didn't know how her ranch was doing, but she retold the story about being trapped in Armadillo (leaving several key parts out of course) and they all laughed at that. By now several people had referred to her as Miss MacFarlane, and she wondered when the man was going to comment on it. Surprisingly there was not a peep from him. They passed ranches and farms, and when they finally crossed over into her land, she let him know.

"Truly? I didn't realised the MacFarlane ranch extended this far." Bonnie beamed in pride.

"Technically we own a decent chunk of the Revenge Mountain Range that runs by us too, but we let that land be."

"Hard to run cattle on a sheer cliff face." Bonnie laughed at him, eyes going up to gaze at the mentioned mountain range, the sun setting and making them a dramatic sight.

"The gang used to run through the range," he told her, "its full of old hideouts." They shared a look, an understanding. Not that she knew what it was like to grow the way he did, but an understanding that she knew why he was telling her that. Because she cared enough.

It was dark and nearly nine at night when they finally rolled into the ranch. She had been fidgeting with nerves ever since she caught sight of the lights. Bonnie was tied up in embarrassment about how her Father would come down to question her and there her man would be, sitting on his horse. That was until she realised there was no reason to tell anyone. No reason for anyone to find out or suspect.

"Bonnie! Storm rained you in eh?" Her father hollered from where he sat on the houses porch in a sleeping gown. Amos was there as well, she could just see them both sitting back stroking their moustaches suspiciously.

"Only for a few hours!" She shouted back through the night. Bonnie continued to walk the wagon past the house and down behind the barn where they kept the supplies. Her man had followed her the entire way, looking about uncertainly.

"We got a house for travellers to board in," Bonnie told him, adding with a smirk, "I'll let you stay for free while we take that stallion off your hands." He got down and helped her start moving the supplies into the shed, stacking them just as she did. Eventually a man who had been minding the fence out back walked up to help. By the time her father and Amos had waltzed their way down she had the boys out of their harnesses and tied up ready for a groom. Amos helped the minder brush the boys down and prepare their stalls, her father took to interrogating her.

"Bad down in Armadillo?" He grumbled, Bonnie fidgeted like a child brought before the table for a scolding. When shifting she realised with horror that her undergarments were still unlaced completely. Hopefully that was unnoticeable, she pulled her best tighter just to be sure. Bonnie glared at her man as if it was his fault.

"Armadillo turned into an island," she told him lightly, "stayed the night in the saloon."

"The saloon is not what is used to be, nobody harassed you there?"

"Nah, I was fine. All respectable sort was stranded there too, gave the place more manners then it had all year combined." Her father chuckled, and she noticed his eyes flashed up to look at her follower. "That's where I met this one," Bonnie gestured in his direction vaguely. "He's passing through, but get a look at his horse Pa, I thought we could use him to cover those three mares we were talking about the other day."

"We had settled on using Rennigan and Bitey," her father mumbled.

"Yeah but take a look at this one, mustang from the wilds of Mexico, sweet as a babe." Bonnie and her Father shared identical looks of intrigue, a battle to see who could raise they're eyebrows higher.

"Alright lets have a look," he finally agreed, calling Amos over as Bonnie led them out to where the grey stood obediently. Her father stuck his hand out at her man and they shared a hand shake.

"Drew MacFarlane."

"Jack Marston, sir"

"Pleasure," her father grunted, completely obvious to how stiff his daughter and _Jack Marston_ had gone. "Well he is quite alright I'll give you that Bonnie." Obviously, her father was talking about the horse, but for a heartbeat it sounded like he was approving of her choice in man.

Fucking hell.

The rest of the horse inspection was a blur, Father and Amos had pages of questions, all which Jack Marston answered. By the end they were in agreeance that the stallion was a good candidate for the three mares, they didn't even balk at the price, just hummed and looked and bit pained before shrugging it off.

"We will decide for true in the morning," Amos concluded, then gave the grey one last pat before walking off with Father. "If you could, show Jack to the traveller's lodge Bonnie." And as such they were left alone in awkward silence. Bonnie led him through the farm to where the house was, renovated since the days a certain John Marston used it. Bonnie sat down on the steps and watched as Jack releveled his horse of track until there was nothing. Nothing keeping the grey there, just obedience as he waited for his rider's command. Jack rustled about in the saddle bags and pulled out a coil of rope, and he wrapped one end over the grey's head, fashioning it's into a rough halter.

"There is some grass behind the building you can put him there," Jack nodded and led the stallion off. He disappeared for a while, leaving Bonnie with her thoughts.

Surely, they weren't related. Marston was sort of common. Well, she hadn't met anyone else with the name, but it sounded like a common one, right? Bonnie fished the key out from where it was stashed under a certain stair and unlocked the door, making her way inside without him. She chucked a thick blanket on the old bed and placed the key on the bedside table. As she went about looking for a match to light the lantern, he entered.

"Marston as in John Marston?" He froze to her question, answer enough. "Are you aware I was friends with your father?" Here she narrowed her eyes, "you are his son right? The one he was always talking about?" Jack sighed, peeling his riding cloak off with a relieved expression.

"Oh is that all, I thought you were reacting over something else."

"So you are?" There was a brief staring contest, which she broke by striking the match and lighting the lantern.

"Ya… and so what?" Bonnie pouted and decided she should sleep on this information.

"Nothing, sleep tight, see you in the morning I suppose." With that she closed the door behind her and walked to the house in a daze, all previous conversations with the man replaying through her mind. Which wasn't many considering they were only just verging on a full day of knowing one another.

She made some excuse about having a rough night to her Father and Amos, which wasn't exactly lying, and went straight to her bed in order to stare out her bedroom window through to midnight in a cloud of uncertainty. What the heck did this mean? What now? Was this morally correct? Hell if she knew.

All she knew was when morning came around, she dressed with extra care because he was going to be out there, and when she met the three men by the horse corral, seeing him made her insides all too ready to be turned into shivery mush once more.

Maybe this is the way of it. Maybe she's attracted to the glimpses of the Father in him, but our relationship is already beyond what she had with Mr. Marston. Maybe she was drawn to the elements of the son that lay there within John. Maybe.

Maybe she just had a thing for Marston's. God she hadn't even been able to hate Mr. Marston's wife as she sat there like a beacon beaming just how non-existent her chances were with Mr. Marston to the entire bloody world.

Jack stayed for four days. They fucked in his lodging upon that bed she once bandaged his father up on, they fucked down by the river where no one could interrupt them. They fucked in her own bedroom, and though Father was gone running cattle, there was still the layer of sweet panic to it as she realised he could come home any minute and they how would she explain Jack's presence in the house as she tried to sneak him out the back door? They fucked one last time the morning he left, back on the bed that Marstons slept on, gentle yet desperate at the same time.

She would not see him again for a long, long time.

 _End_


End file.
